


sleep through your alarms

by goaliesareweird



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Trans Dave Strider, Trans Karkat Vantas, and also participanting in some Shenanigans, idiots to lovers, just some kids having a funky time and falling in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-01-05 22:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18375629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goaliesareweird/pseuds/goaliesareweird
Summary: “Holy shit,” Karkat mumbles to himself, his head, once again, in his hands. “I’m so fucked.”Dave’s brows furrow in confusion, before he finally turns and looks at the whiteboard.Ah. That clarifies some things.“PARTNER UP WITH DESK-MATE. MANDATORY.”Dave’s eyes fall on the nervous wreck sitting to his right, who is currently mumbling what might be a prayer underneath his breath.This is going to be interesting.





	1. man, you're losing your head

**Author's Note:**

> but so broken on when you can't stop choosing
> 
> to sleep through your alarms
> 
> -sleep thru ur alarms by lontalius
> 
> https://youtu.be/Wpddn4_waf0

Honors US History might be the best class Dave Strider has ever taken.

Not that anyone agrees with him; the one time he mentioned how much he liked the class to Rose, she made a face like she was smelling dog shit, before sending him a goddamn manifesto where she criticized the class, its teacher, and the public-school system as a whole.

The essay was sent over Pesterchum, at two o’clock in the morning. It was so long that Dave’s computer crashed the first time he tried to read it.

Dave, eager to take advantage of any opportunity to annoy his sister, immediately blocked her, which escalated to Rose bitching about Dave’s annoyingness to Roxy, which escalated to Roxy drunkenly throwing rocks at his apartment window in the middle of the night, which escalated to the window shattering and Dave duct-taping a chunk of cardboard over a broken windowpane while Dirk swept up chunks of glass. Six months later, and the cardboard still hasn’t moved; the only difference is that it’s now covered with Dave’s SBAHJ doodles and Dirk’s lines of linear code, in red and orange sharpie, respectively.

(Out of curiosity, Dave ended up putting Dirk’s code through a translator, which is how he discovered that Dirk’s seemingly endless lines of 1s and 0s were, in fact, original and unfinished Naruto/Sasuke porn. So, of course, Dave completed it, printed out several copies at the library on John’s account, and dispersed it all over school, including the AP Computer Science classroom, where Dirk inevitably stumbled across it and laughed so hard at he puked on his desk and was sent home early.)

Anyways.

Dave’s family life is complicated, but history class isn’t. Not because of the class’ material- fuck no- but because, to Dave, US History is prime nap time.

On the first day of school, he had managed to nab a seat in the back of the class, right next to a clump of stoner kids (led by some dude in clown makeup) who consistently wreak so much havoc that the teacher’s vision- or, more often, the substitute’s vision- never seems to focus on anyone else. 

They are also the reason why Dave always goes to lunch smelling like cotton candy vape. He’s chill with it, though; they never wake him up whenever he decides it’s time to take a snooze.

And man does he snooze often. On the days where the teacher is actually there, the guy starts off class by turning on the projector, dimming the lights, and rambling about Christopher Columbus or whoever-the-hell for ninety minutes straight- the perfect recipe for knocking Dave the fuck out. He has even started bringing a pillow to class, to Rose’s amusement.

And it’s not like Dave doesn’t care about school; he does care, and most of the time he puts at least the minimal amount of effort needed to do well: googling the homework answers the period before it’s due, snapping soon-to-be-deleted pictures of powerpoint slides, maybe even skimming the textbook- you name it, Dave Strider has maybe thought about doing it. 

However, none of that is necessary in US History. Because the class’ teacher, Mr. Harley, does not give a single shit.

Or, maybe he does give a shit, but just has an unique way of showing it. An unique way that involves only showing up for class two out of the five days of the week, assigning daily worksheets that everyone gets a 100% on, and mounting his rifle collection on the wall next to the whiteboard, which Dave is pretty sure is against at least one school rule, but, whatever.

The point is, Dave has a 97% in US History, so he naps. It’s the fucking ideal situation, a single cherry on top of the pile of garbage that is his life, a cold glass of apple juice after running a marathon in the blistering summer sun, a fucking blessing from-

The pen that had previously been scratching besides Dave’s ear for the past half hour pauses; its owner had decided a better use of his time would be stabbing Dave in the shoulder with his pointier-than-average elbow. “Stop fucking mumbling, Dave, I can barely hear myself think,” he hisses.

-At least, the class would be a blessing. If Dave had a different desk partner.

Karkat Vantas is, as implied by his full name, an ass. Dave originally had high hopes for him; when he first saw the guy sitting alone at his desk on the first day of the semester, grumbling to himself underneath a mess of dark, curly hair, chewing down his already nubby fingernails into even smaller nubs, Dave had actually found him to be kind of cute. In a rat sort of way.

Dave had seen Ratatouille maybe a dozen times, so he had figured, what the hell, same difference, and plopped himself down in the seat directly next to him.

“Sup,” Dave had said nonchalantly. The kid somehow contorted his face to look even more pissed off.

“Who the fuck are you?” he had asked. Rude.

“Is this seat taken?” Dave responded, pointing to the desk he was already sitting in and wasn’t planning on moving out of.

“It’s- It’s, uh,“ the kid spent a good minute sputtering, obviously searching for a socially acceptable lie, before falling back into his chair, defeated. “No, it’s free. Practically open-fucking-range, if you ask me. Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable; feel free to get your gross teenager sweat all over anything and everything in a five foot radius, especially me. In fact, I have my backpack right here, in case you need an impromptu urinal,” he announced, loudly, right before unzipping his bag and pushing it to Dave’s feet with a swift kick.

Goddamn, was that a first impression. Luckily for this guy, Dave was equally unpleasant.

“Sweet, ‘cause I actually forgot to take a piss this morning,” Dave remarked too casually, already unravelling his belt.

Within a second, Dave’s arm was in the kid’s grip, and his skin was quickly turning from brown to white from the pressure. “If you pee in my bag,” the kid threatened, slowly and methodically- a heavy contrast from his earlier yelling- “I will have a guillotine assembled within an hour and I will use it to remove your head from your body-“

“That is how a guillotine works, good job deciphering that one-“ Dave snarked, shutting up once the kid tightened his grip.

“-And THEN I will throw your head into a tank of acid, scrub it thoroughly with dish soap and water, and use your skull as a water bottle-“ Dave was pretty sure that he was going to have bruises- “And after that, I will smash it with a hammer, run it over with a garbage truck, and combine the remaining pieces of bone into a toilet, which I will then install into a gas station bathroom, so I can shit on you post-mortem,” the guy finished, releasing him.

Dave began to message his newly-freed skin, stunned into silence.

The silence lasted for a whole three seconds. 

“Jesus, dude, you’re kind of intimidating for a guy who’s like, 4’10-“

“I’m 5’3 you ASSHOLE!” And with that, the kid jumped him.

Thus ensued a wrestling match on the classroom’s disgusting tile floor, with Dave’s attacker squirming on top, scratching and screaming at the top of his lungs like a raccoon on cocaine, while Dave rolled on the ground underneath him, laughing so hard he couldn’t breath as he attempted to push the kid off of him. Within seconds, their classmates had the duo swarmed and on camera, all cheering Dave and the kid- who’s name was apparently Karkat, if the screams were any indication- on at the top of their lungs. Not that Dave really noticed; he was too busy getting his ass handed to him by a sixteen year old who looked twelve.

Most of the time Dave would better equipped to defend himself, thanks to Bro, but something about Karkat’s animalistic screeching during the frenzy was just so fucking funny to him. He couldn’t hit this kid; the guy was a freak of nature, hellbent on destroying Dave just for making one comment about his height.

That being said, Dave was going to die soon if this kept up- Karkat was beginning to aim for the throat.

Dave was about to get back on his feet and defend himself, until a neatly manicured hand reached down and lifted Karkat into the air by the collar of his sweater, doing Dave’s job for him. Karkat struggled against their grasp, wiggling around like a disobedient kitten.

“Karkat,” said the intervener- a tall and elegant Middle Eastern girl with pearl earrings and a precise manner of speaking- “Why are you picking fights with strangers on the first day back from break?”

“He called me short!” Karkat said defensively, his arms crossed.

Dave pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “You ARE short.”

Karkat merely flipped him off, clearly too tired to get into any more squabbles.

“Are you done trying to get suspended?” The girl asked, still carrying him. “If I let you down now, will you behave yourself?”

Karkat’s arms drooped at his sides and he sighed to himself, before nodding timidly. The girl gently placed him back on the floor and ruffled his hair, which Karkat didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks, Kanaya,” he said quietly.

“It’s quite alright, Karkat,” she responded, brushing the dust off of her skirt as their classmates resigned themselves back to their seats, disappointed at the fight’s swift resolution. “Just try to keep your temper under control in school settings.”

They embraced (for a few seconds too long, in Dave’s opinion) as Dave pushed himself off of the ground and made his way back to his desk, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped.

Karkat sat down next to him. “Hey.”

Dave nodded. “Hey.”

Then the sub walked in and took attendance, giving Dave and Karkat an excuse to avoid eye contact. And words. For three months.

Now it’s mid-March, and Dave and Karkat only acknowledge each other if they need to borrow a pencil or trade an insult. The latter happens much more often then the first, as demonstrated by Karkat’s compulsive need to comment on Dave’s mumbling.

“I refuse to apologize for spreading my genius to the world, Karkat, that shit just ain’t right. Culture needs my words to continue progressing,” Dave remarked, replying to Karkat’s original complaint as he picks his head up from his desk and wipes away his eye crust.

Karkat scoffs. “Genius? As if. Your frequent and unintelligible rambling lowers my IQ even more than this,” he says, pointing at Mr. Harley, who is currently elevating his feet on top of his desk while eating sub, “Fucking quack does. I swear to fuck, every time he opens his mouth my grade in this class manages to decline even more.”

Dave shifts in his seat. “Dude, are you like, failing or something?”

Karkat rolls his eyes right as Stoner Clown blows a giant vape cloud into the air. Dave sniffs, and the artificial scent of marshmallow fills his lungs. “I have a 79%, Dave; that’s not exactly failing, although it sure fucking feels like it right now,” Karkat says with a sigh. He squints his eyes. “Why, are you doing better?”

Dave tries to break the news as delicately as be can. “Karkat, my man, I have a 97% in this bitch.”

Karkat’s mouth falls open. “What. The fuck?”

Dave shrugs.

“I’ve failed every single test in this class- he doesn’t even teach us anything! Half of the pages in the textbook are either missing or incomprehensible! How the fuck do you have an 97%!?” Karkat yells, beginning to hyperventilate. Maybe Dave should do something.

“Dude, he literally steals all of the tests from the internet, look up ‘Unit 8 US History Test’ on Quizlet and you’ll find all of the answers.”

Karkat groans and slams his head on his desk. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Dave briefly considers patting Karkat’s trembling shoulder, before deciding against it and wrapping his arm around Karkat’s chair instead. “No, bro, you’re not. He is a really shitty teacher,” Dave looks up again and watches as Mr. Harley licks a trail of mustard off of his chin, “And I’m a really lazy student, so I know to check Quizlet for the answers. You actually try pretty hard, so you didn’t consider it. It’s no biggie, now you know and can make your grade better.”

Karkat flings himself back up into sitting postion, a manic look in his eyes. “But I can’t, Dave! Do you know what’s due this Friday? Do you?”

Dave does not know what’s due this Friday.

Karkat throws his hands into the air. “Our grades, David! Mid-semester report cards! Which, if you can recall, are added to your GPA! So, yes, it is a ‘biggie!’ Quite a colossal fucking biggie! If I have a C added to my transcript, my chances of getting into a decent college will be fucked up the ass by a burning hot iron rod! I’m fucking screwed!” And with that, he slams his head back onto his desk in despair.

Maybe Dave made the right choice by avoiding physical contact. “Shit, man, that’s tough.” God, he has no idea what he’s doing- he’s shit at comforting people, that’s Rose’s territory, with her therapy gimmick and all. The only things Dave is good at is drawing badly and getting his ass beat.

Karkat groans. “It’s fine. I’m just being melodramatic as always; it doesn’t matter if I get into a good college, I’ll probably be dead by twenty-five anyways.”

Dave nearly asks him what he means, before he’s interrupted by an irritated man in a wrinkled suit.

“I’ll wait,” Mr. Harley says underneath the chatter of Dave’s classmates, arms crossed in an attempt to look intimidating. When that fails to gather their attention, he decides that waiting is overrated, and pushes an eroding textbook off of the desk, which falls to the floor with a deafening slam. That at least gets Karkat’s attention; within seconds, he switches from making muffled crying noises into his hands to sitting at the edge of his seat, eager to hear whatever bullshit the teacher has to share. What a kiss-ass.

Mr. Harley smiles. “Thank you. I have some announcements I want to make. First of all,” he says, remains of his sandwich still sitting on his face, “I will be absent for the remainder of the week, so stay on your best behavior for the substitute, or you’ll be sorry.”

Dave rolls his eyes. Mr. Harley wouldn’t know if they weren’t on their best behavior, because he never checks the substitutes’ notes. Back in January they locked a particularly racist sub out of the classroom, and Mr. Harley never even brought it up.

“Secondly, I am assigning a project that will be due via email Thursday night,” Karkat’s ears perk up, “Just enough time for me to add it to the grade-book in time for report cards.” Karkat’s posture straightens, and Dave swears he can see something resembling a smile on his face. “The rubric is on my blog, you will be expected to present...” Yada yada yada, blah blah blah, now this is the type of shit Dave usually sleeps through. He’s just about to lay his head in his arms until he hears the word ‘partners.’

“Partners?” Dave mumbles to himself. That’s pretty weird, most of the time they work on projects by themselves. Maybe it’s optional?

Dave glances over a Karkat, who looks like he has seen a ghost.

“What’s popping, Karkles? Why do you look so damn spooked?”

“Holy shit,” Karkat mumbles to himself, head, once again, in his hands. “I’m so fucked.”

Dave’s brows furrow in confusion, before he finally turns and looks at the whiteboard. 

Ah. That clarifies some things.

“PARTNER UP WITH DESK-MATE. MANDATORY.”

Dave’s eyes fall on the nervous wreck sitting to his right, who is currently mumbling what might be a prayer underneath his breath.

This is going to be interesting.


	2. there are lessons to be learned/ consequences for all the stupid things i say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from twin sized mattress by the front bottoms  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWJUk65EnQM

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 8:48 PM  


CG: DAVID IF YOU GAVE ME A FAKE CHUMHANDLE I WILL KILL YOU IN A HIT-AND-RUN. 

TG: jesus christ you type the same way you talk 

TG: and its just dave thanks 

CG: OKAY, DAVE, IN THAT CASE I WILL BRIEFLY OVERRIDE MY NATURAL IMPULSE TO BE AN ASSHOLE AND INSTEAD SHARE A STATEMENT OF NECESSARY HONESTY WITH YOU: I’M NOT EXACTLY THRILLED ABOUT BEING YOUR PARTNER FOR THIS PROJECT.  


TG: yeah man i got that vibe after witnessing you slam your head against your desk approximately 420 times after mr thiccass announced that we were partners  


TG: did you go to the nurse after 3rd block  


TG: bc it seemed to me that you had a bruise as big as your ego and as blue as your balls thanks to all that head slammin  


CG: THANKS FOR THE COMMENTARY, SMARTASS. THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I DIDN’T WANT TO BE PARTNERS WITH YOU! YOU TURN EVERY LITTLE THING INTO A COLOSSAL FUCKING EVENT!  


TG: says the guy with a bruise the size of my nonexistent dick on his forehead  


TG: you should really get that checked out bro  


TG: rest some frozen peas on it or something  


TG: or better yet get a therapist so you can find a healthy way to deal with your obvious anger issues  


TG: breath in breath out bro  


TG: count to ten before saying something you might regret  


TG: punch a pillow instead of abusing your skull  


TG: its the only one you got dude its crucial that you treat it with respect  


TG: anyways i got a gal i can call for you  


TG: shes goth and a little impolite so I think yall will get along just fine  


CG: HOLY SHIT I REGRET STARTING THIS CONVERSATION MORE THAN I REGRET ALL OF MY FAILED RELATIONSHIPS, WHICH IS FUCKING SAYING SOMETHING.  


CG: LOOK, I’M SORRY THAT WE GOT OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT WHEN I BEAT YOU UP THAT ONE TIME.  


TG: “beat me up” lol  


CG: SHUT UP! I WOULD’VE WON IF KANAYA HADN’T INTERVENED!  


CG: ANYWAYS.  


CG: IT WAS… AN OVERREACTION, I’LL ADMIT IT.  


TG: thank you for the gracious acknowledgement of your wrongdoings humble knight  


TG: now consider this  


TG: eat my ass  


CG: EAT MY ASS, FUCKNUTS! I’M TRYING TO APOLOGIZE LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON AND YOU KEEP ON INTERRUPTING ME! TRY SITTING ON YOUR HANDS IF THE URGE TO TYPE AND SPREAD YOUR CONSTANT STREAM OF BULLSHIT GETS TOO OVERWHELMING!  


CG: …  


CG: SORRY, I FREAKED OUT AGAIN.  


CG: WHAT I MEANT TO SAY WAS, AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SEMESTER I HAD A LOT OF UNRESOLVED ANGER ISSUES DUE TO MY UNTREATED DEPRESSION THAT WAS A SYMPTOM OF THE TRAUMA THAT COMES WITH BEING TRANSGENDER AND IN HIGH SCHOOL.  


CG: AND ALTHOUGH I’M NOW GETTING BETTER THANKS TO A HEAVY DOSE OF ZOLOFT, AT THE TIME I REACTED REALLY AGGRESSIVELY WHENEVER SOMEONE UPSET ME.  


CG: SO, WHEN YOU MADE A COMMENT ON MY HEIGHT, I JUST SORT OF…  


TG: went sicko mode  


CG: YEAH, I GUESS THAT’S A GOOD WAY TO DESCRIBE IT.  


CG: I KNOW I’M SHORT BUT IT MAKES ME REALLY SELF-CONSCIOUS WHEN PEOPLE MENTION IT TO ME BECAUSE IT REMINDS ME THAT I DON’T REALLY PASS.  


CG: SO, I WENT SICKO MODE ON YOU, WHICH REALLY WASN’T FAIR BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T KNOW ANY OF THIS SHIT AND WAS ONLY TEASING ME BECAUSE I WAS A DICK TO YOU FIRST. THAT WAS WRONG OF ME, AND I AM LEGITIMATELY SORRY.  


CG: …  


CG: WHAT THE FUCK, WHY AM I EXPLAINING THIS TO YOU? I ONLY MEANT TO APOLOGIZE AND INSTEAD I GAVE AN UNCOMFORTABLY PERSONAL EXPLANATION WHERE I OUTED MYSELF TO A CIS GUY I BARELY EVEN KNOW!  


CG: I HOPE MY SCHOOL BUS RUNS ME OVER TOMORROW SO THE PUBLIC EDUCATION SYSTEM CAN WRECK MY SHIT ONE LAST TIME! FUCK!  


CG: IF YOU MENTION ANY ASPECT OF THIS CONVERSATION AT CLASS TOMORROW, I WILL SHOVE MYSELF INTO A LOCKER AND NOT COME OUT UNTIL THE JANITOR NOTICES THE SMELL OF MY ROTTING CORPSE.  


TG: hey karkat  


TG: its chill  


TG: i get it  


CG: I REALLY DOUBT THAT.  


TG: no dude you dont understand  


TG: im literally trans  


CG: WAIT.  


CG: WHAT?  


TG: man i made a joke about my nonexistent dick 300 words ago i wasnt exactly hiding it  


CG: HOLY FUCK I AM DUMB.  


CG: I HONESTLY DIDN’T CONSIDER WHAT YOU WERE IMPLYING.  


CG: BUT ALSO IT WASN’T LIKE I WAS FUCKING ANNOTATING YOUR BLOCK OF RED BULLSHIT.  


TG: oh damn karkat did the teacher not tell you  


TG: annotations of my pesterchum messages are gonna be half of our final grade  


CG: BITE ME.  


CG: I CAN’T BELIEVE THE ONLY OTHER TRANS GUY I KNOW IS THE DUMBASS WHO SITS NEXT TO ME IN US HISTORY.  


TG: the universe works in mysterious ways  


TG: but honestly dude  


TG: and this is just me dipping into something you said earlier in this chat but  


TG: you really do pass  


TG: dont feel self conscious about yourself just bc youre short  


TG: when i first met you i just thought you were just a small cis dude otherwise I wouldnt have made that height joke bc i know how much shit like that can hurt  


TG: so im sorry about that man  


CG: GODDAMMIT, STOP BEING A DECENT PERSON! IT MAKES IT HARDER FOR ME TO HATE YOU.  


TG: sorry bro but the kindness train is choo-chooing right outside my door and its giving me the magical fruity juice i need to try and improve myself as a person  


CG: I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.  


TG: yeah thats usually how it goes  


TG: anyway  


TG: should we go to your place tomorrow to work on that shitty history thing or should we try to do it at school  


CG: WHY NOT YOUR PLACE?  


TG: shit gets hectic sometimes  


TG: trust me well be better off somewhere else  


CG: UH, OKAY, I GUESS. THAT WASN’T AT ALL VAGUE OR MENACING.  


CG: WANT TO WORK ON IT DURING LUNCH? IF WE GO TO MY PLACE MY DAD’LL KEEP ON INTERRUPTING US TO OFFER SNACKS.  


TG: sure dude  


TG: sounds epic  


TG: also  


TG: wanna join my familys minecraft server  


TG: im not trying to come on to you or anything its just that dirk only behaves himself on servers if someone he doesnt know is playing with him 

CG: WHY WOULD YOU INVITING ME TO PLAY MINECRAFT WITH YOUR SIBLINGS BE A COME ON? 

TG: minecraft is an inherently romantic game 

TG: its actually where michelle and barack first met 

CG: THE FORMER PRESIDENT AND FIRST LADY? 

TG: of course who else 

CG: WOW. 

TG: i know right 

TG: shits romantic as hell 

TG: anyways are you down 

CG: …  


CG: I’LL CONSIDER IT.  


TG: fuck yeah dude  


turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 9:22 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like in a humanstuck au karkat would be able to chill out a little sooner thanks to Not Being Hunted For All Of His Life, which is why he actually comes across as a semi normal person in this chapter. hes still typical karkat, but now hes speedrunning the process of emotionally maturing. dave would also be a little better off in this au thanks to having family other than bro but hes still kinda fucked up thanks to all that #trauma
> 
> btw thank you so much to everyone who gave kudos and commented. every time i got an email telling me that someone liked or commented this fic i got a dumbass smile on my face ajsfgsjdhf yall are so fucking nice thanks for keeping me fed
> 
> ill probably start updating a lot more when school gets out so look forward to that! stay bitchin boys


	3. you got a smile that could light this town and we might need it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘cause it gets dark around here
> 
> real dark around here
> 
> https://youtu.be/cIy2wyEV0qc

When the lunch bell rings the next day, Dave wakes up to Karkat standing at his side, aggressively tapping the lack of watch on his wrist.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Karkat says, already clutching his lunchbox. “I don’t want to be late because of your lazy ass.”

Dave picks up his head from his desk and watches as their classmates rise out of their seats and walk out the door, chatting idly with one another. “Dude,” he says, turning back to Karkat, “The bell literally just rang, chill out. And why in the goddamn is being on time to lunch a priority anyway? You don’t go through the lunch line.”

Karkat crosses his arms. “BECAUSE, dipshit-“

“Bro, don’t deadname me like that.”

“-BECAUSE we need to work on this fucking project or else I’ll FAIL-“

“By fail do you mean get a C? Because I’m like one hundo percent certain that that’s what you meant.”

“GET A C in this class! Happy!?” Karkat yells, tossing his hands up in the air of the now empty classroom.

Well, nearly empty.

“Boys,” Mr. Harley says over a cup of microwavable ramen. “Shut up and leave my classroom. The bell rang.”

Karkat raises his eyebrows at Dave, who in turn sighs, pulls himself out of his chair, and begins to stalk down the hallway, hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Oh, so you cooperate the second an authority figure tells you what to do?” Karkat says, jogging to catch up to him. “What happened to the guy who made a ‘Fuck Blue Lives’ sign in Minecraft last night?” 

“That version of Dave Strider had just chugged an unholy mixture of Rebull and apple juice after being dared to by Roxy, completely disrespecting the wellbeing of this version of Dave Strider by not allowing him to get any fucking sleep,” Dave grumbles. 

Karkat stops in front of Dave. “Hold on- what time did you go to sleep last night?”

Dave smirks. “4:20.”

“Dave.”

“JK dude, I have no clue. The birds were chirping hella loud though.”

Karkat sighs. That’s starting to be a pattern with him. “You have to take better care of yourself, no wonder you fall asleep in class all the fucking time.”

Dave shrugs. He’s accustomed to sleep deprivation by now; the last time he had a full night of sleep was maybe two months ago? Or was that three months?

“One second,” Karkat says, rummaging through his backpack, “I might have something that’ll help.” He’s sticking his tongue out in concentration as he looks, which Dave finds sort of adorable, not gonna lie. “Here,” Karkat says, holding out a little white tablet.

Of a mysterious drug. 

In the hallway of their public school. 

Where there are cameras.

Dave doesn’t think, instead opting straight to the shoving. 

“Jesus Christ!” Karkat yelps when Dave finally releases him in the safety of the boys’ bathroom. “Talk about a fucking overreaction.”

“What the fuck was that!” Dave hisses. “Don’t just hand me drugs in the middle of the hallway, that’s how clown guy got suspended!”

“Gamzee was suspended for lighting up a blunt in the bathroom next to the teacher’s lounge, not for taking caffeine pills, which are legal and taken by every AP student in this goddamn school!” Karkat shoots back.

A guy pissing in a nearby urinal flushes. “You guys got pills?”

Karkat glares. “You got five dollars?”

Dave waves his hands in the air. “Hold on, you sell these things?”

“Gotta afford college somehow, you want one or not?” Karkat sticks out his hand, where the tablet sits. Dave picks it up, and considers his options. 

Dave isn’t exactly what you would call straight-laced; the gram of weed taped underneath his bed frame could tell you that much. But that doesn’t mean he’s super eager to take a pill of an unknown quantity in the middle of a government-owned building. 

“How many milligrams is this?” 

“Two hundred,” Karkat answers, his arms crossed. 

Dave squints down at the pill, which he is clutching between his thumb and his index finger. “Sounds like a lot.” 

Karkat covers his face with his hands, and deeply exhales. “Either take the fucking pill or don’t, I don’t give a shit. But I wasn’t kidding about being on time to lunch, so, I’m going to restate my original statement: Hurry the fuck up.”

Dave takes the pill.

“Thanks,” he says hoarsely.

“No problem,” Karkat says. The two stand in silence for a moment, excluding the guy at the urinal who loudly slams the bathroom door without washing his hands.

“So... You’re a caffeine dealer for the school’s overachievers?”

Karkat shrugs with a smile. “If the kid buying is especially stupid, I pump up the price and say it’s Adderall.” 

—

By the time they enter the cafeteria, there’s twenty minutes left of lunch and Karkat is not in the mood to waste any more time.

“Come on,” he says, pulling at Dave’s sleeve as he marches his way towards an isolated table in the corner, its only inhabitant being an underclassman on his Nintendo Switch.

Dave longingly glances over to his usual table, populated by John, Jade, and Rose, as he is tugged. Jade is the only one who notices his staring, and the longer her gaze flickers back and forth from Dave to Karkat, the more confused she seems to look. Dave is honestly too distracted by the dog ears she’s wearing to consider yelling for help.

“Do you usually sit over here?” Dave asks once Karkat slams his backpack down on the table.

“No, I usually sit with my friends. They’re just so fucking loud that I can’t attempt to concentrate on school work around them without wanting to blow my goddamn brains out.”

Dave laughs. “Dude, who are you friends with? They sound like a good time.” 

Karkat sighs. “Do you know a girl named Terezi?”

Dave thinks back to Freshman year- specifically, back to Terezi’s tongue squirming around in his mouth as he grabbed her ass underneath the bleachers. “Yeah, we’re buds.”

“Well, I sit with her, her girlfriend, and a few of my friends.”

Dave holds up his hands. “Holy shit, Terezi has a girlfriend? Do I know her?”

Karkat opens his mouth- maybe to answer Dave’s question, maybe to issue a warning- but before he can say anything, something hits the back of Dave’s head. Hard.

Dave spins around, and makes eye contact with the culprit, an Indian girl in an army jacket grinning to herself and clutching a chicken nugget in her hand. 

“Hey asshole, who do you think you are, ditching us?!” Vriska yells at Karkat. “Lunch is only fun when your dumbass is yelling profanities at me!” She then chucks another chicken nugget at Dave, who attempts and fails to catch it in his mouth.

“Why won’t God fucking kill me,” Karkat grumbles as he picks up his backpack and sulks his way towards the other table.

“It’s ‘cause you’re too fun to kill, baby!” Dave says with a laugh. Karkat flipping him off only makes him laugh harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> karkat’s a drug dealer for kids who are too pussy to take actual drugs, and he and vriska are actually kinda friends, bc i think the dynamic “vriska and karkat are buds who annoy each other” is more fun then “they hate each other’s guts”
> 
> btw eridan is def one of those kids that karkat sells “adderall” to
> 
> also, if you’re going to take any sort of drug at school, do it in the fucking bathroom and as quickly as possible. or just don’t take drugs at school.
> 
> xoxo dave kinnie


	4. home is whenever i’m with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/_3hWYXOg1Cg

Lunch doesn’t end up being as productive as originally planned. Karkat’s typical table turns out to be a very rambunctious group, who partake in activities such as mixing milk and Coke together and daring each other to drink it, which is how Dave ends up spending the last few minutes of lunch rubbing Karkat’s back as he pukes his guts out into the bathroom toilet. Apparently Karkat is too stubborn to say no to dumb shit, at least when his friends are involved.

Karkat picks his head up from the toilet bowl, his loose curls framing his face as a trail of vomit drips down his chin. Dave silently hands him a handful of one-ply toilet paper, which Karkat takes with a grateful nod.

“Want me to buy you a coke to fix your puke breath?” Dave asks, still rubbing Karkat’s back. It’s not really necessary anymore, considering he’s done heaving, but it’s kind of nice to feel the subtle fuzz of his sweatshirt against the palm of his hand, warm from Karkat’s body heat.

Karkat blanches, and Dave remembers that Coke is 50% of the reason why they’re in this predicament in the first place. Never mind then.

Karkat leans against the stall door, and sighs. “Fuck, this sucks.”

Dave nods. “Vomit’s kinda wack. Not as wack as like, war crimes, but, y’know, it’s still up there.”

Karkat glares at him. “Not the puking, dipshit. The project! We didn’t do an ounce of it at lunch, because I got too distracted by the worst goddamn mixed drink of all time!”

“I don’t know about the worst. Once my sister fed me a mixture of Fireball and hot Pepsi and let me just say, dude, my shits? Were pure liquid. In fact-“

Karkat claps his hand over Dave’s mouth before he can finish. “If you keep on rambling about nasty bullshit I’m gonna sew your lips together like you’re that motherfucker from Coraline.”

Dave licks Karkat’s hand, half to get Karkat off of him, half to be annoying, and the kid reacts by shrieking at a frequency so high Dave’s surprised the drug dogs don’t start barking. 

“You’re kinda a pussy, you know that?”

Karkat aggressively wipes his hand off on his sweatpants. “Watch what you say, cunt, my older brother would have fucking twitter cancelled you in mere seconds for saying that shit in front of him.”

Dave whistles. “Damn, who’s your brother? I think I have a hard on just from your description.”

“Dave, shut the fuck up.”

-

When school dismisses at 3:30, the first thing Dave does after practically throwing himself down the stairs and to the carpool lane, is look for Karkat. He knows Karkat walks home after years of witnessing him marching down the sidewalk as Dave’s bus flies past, but he doesn’t mean he knows where they’re supposed to be meeting. 

Dave pushes through the crowd of kids waiting for their mommies to pick them up in their minivan, probably to get back to their McMansion with a goddamn heated pool and a fridge that’s not filled to the brim with swords and ninja stars. The classy lifestyle. Whatever. Dave doesn’t need that shit.

He gives up on walking through the crowd, and instead heads over to a row of benches. He hops on top of one, and studies the cluster of heads, looking for one that’s a little shorter than all the others.

Does Karkat have a home like that? Probably. He mentioned his Dad giving them snacks during one of their Pesterlogs. That sounds pretty traditionally wholesome. Crackers with fruit, probably something fancy like mango, chopped up and given in small portions so that Karkat doesn’t ruin his dinner. His dad probably washes and folds his binders, kisses him on the forehead before bed, calls him by the right name. Nice shit like that.

Something swells in Dave’s chest. Is he jealous? Probably. It’s hard not to be jealous of a family like that. Even with siblings like Dirk and Rose and Roxy, people he loves with everything he has, it’s hard not to wish for a dad that doesn’t beat the shit out of him.

Sorry, was that too blunt?

Someone tugs at his hoodie sleeve, and Dave flinches. 

“Dave! You motherfucker, I’ve been looking for you for the past five minutes, c’mon! Your house or mine?” Karkat asks, his nose pink from the spring cold.

Dave doesn’t hesitate before replying. “Yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, it’s been a while. school, amiright ladies? (also adhd hehe)

**Author's Note:**

> whats popping boys, im here to post fanfic for the first time since middle school because i love davekat and high school shenanigans. this is very self-indulgent and heavily inspired by my years of public school education, so i hope you enjoy. hit me with something if i dont update within a month and PLEASE give kudos and comment! validation is my lifeblood! thank you and have a nice day gamers
> 
> follow me at wormcrimezz.tumblr.com


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